Our Hard Knock Life
by Super Vanilla Bear
Summary: Discontinued. An illness turns J.D.'s life upside down.
1. My Symptomatic Feelings

**Author's Note: **I do not own the television show _Scrubs_ or any of its characters.

I said this new story would be up some time in January, but I decided to put it up today. I know I'm not finished with _Our Unresolved Issues _yet, but it only has two chapters left. The updating schedule with this is going to be the same as with my first story: spaced out. I'm sorry about the fact that it takes me around three weeks to update and hopefully I'll get better about it in the future. I doubt it will because school never seems to let up, but you never know. Even during the summer it's hard to update because of band camp and family gatherings. I'll update when I can, but I don't always know when that will be. Please bare with me on this, guys.

The chapters will, once again, be told in different points of view. In this story, almost everyone is going to have their own chapter where they will get to tell how and what they are feeling. Don't worry though, this isn't all about J.D.'s illness, it's also about Turk and Carla having their second baby, the Janitor's marriage to Lady, J.D. and Elliot's relationship, J.D. and Sammy connecting even though they don't see each other everyday, and Dr. Cox and Jordan's marriage.

It is set in season eight.

This chapter is from J.D.'s point of view.

* * *

_My Symptomatic Feelings_

Elliot slaps me on the ass in the morning to wake me up. It's a daily ritual in this apartment, since there really is no other way to make me open my eyes. Her hands are like tiny dragons, full of power, and her nails are sharp, bear claws that dig into my skin and make me howl in pain, the same noise I make when me and Turk play _Pink Belly_. She discovered this method accidentally and apologized until her face was red the first time, but now she does it every single day. This time, it stings more than usual, leaving me with tears fogging my vision. I'm such a wimp.

"Too hard?" She asks, laying her hand on my shoulder for comfort.

"Kinda," I hiss through my teeth.

"Did my fingers nails get you again?"

"Yeah..." I mumble.

"Sorry, baby," she says, leaning down and positioning me to where I'm flat on my back, glancing straight into her blue eyes. She begins to kiss me up and down my neck, running her hands through my hair, mumbling sexy things things to try to get me going, but, for some reason, I'm not feeling it. It's odd because I'm normally a morning sex person, and she knows this. I gently push her away and notice the look of hurt on her face, like I had just kicked her puppy down a flight of stairs, even though she has never even had a puppy before. "Something wrong?" She inquires.

I shake my head, rolling over and curling myself into the fetal position. "No."

Elliot rubs my arm, which is what she does when she suspects I'm hiding something "You sure?"

"Positive."

She sighs and I see her move out of the corner of my eye. "You're not upset about me making you get a haircut still, are you?"

"No, Elliot," I reply into the pillow. Last night, she forced me to get a haircut and I refused, which shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone, considering I only let certain people touch it at specific times of the day. She threatened to withdraw sex for the rest of my life, forbid me to go with Turk to the carnival to see the two-headed fish, and removed all of the Popsicles in the freezer. Needless to say, I was pissed, but went through with it so I didn't have to live without any of those things. All she made me do was get about an inch and a half cut, saying that it was getting too long and looked disgusting when I gelled it up, but it really set me off, and I'm not the type of person to get mad easily. I didn't even _really_ get mad when she threw away my _Lucky Charms_ boxers.

"Then what's bothering you?"

"Nothing! Can't a person just be tired?"

"Fine. Message received. But you better get ready, we have to leave in half an hour."

I nod and drag myself out of bed, wincing as the cold air hits my body, making me want to bundle back under the covers. For some reason, my joints feel like they're made of led and have little surges of pain ripping through them. Stumbling over to the closet, I pull out a pair of random scrubs and an undershirt, going for more a sweater than a thin one because of the chills I'm having. I rub my eyes and yawn, feeling the drowsiness hit me even more now that I'm up and moving around. I guess I'm just a lot more tired than what I first thought.

It takes me less than fifteen minutes to get showered and changed, having decided to neglect shaving once again and leave without any mousse in my hair because of my lack of energy. My hair feels naked without it in, but I'm falling asleep while getting ready so there's no way I can do it properly. Elliot runs her hands through it when I go out to the living room, smiling and saying "I love your hair when it doesn't have any product in it. It's so soft." You'd be surprised at how often I get that from women. The lady who cut my hair last night said the same thing.

"You're not mad at me, are you?" I ask her, just to make sure we're okay.

She shakes her head. "No, I just wish you would talk to me about what's bothering you."

I almost started the "I'm just tired" argument again, but I just bite my tongue and hold off. "Elliot, please trust me. Nothing's wrong. If there was, you'd be the first to know," I reassure her, wrapping me arm around her and squeezing her shoulder.

Elliot smiles and asks "You promise?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay." She pats my stomach. "You ready to go?"

"Yep." I'm really not. I'd rather just crawl back under the covers and sleep for the rest of the day.

* * *

It's sprinkling outside when we arrive at Sacred Heart. I can tell there's a giant storm coming; the clouds are a dark grey, almost black, color and thunder rumbles overhead. I've never liked storms, especially when I lived alone for that year, but it's better now that there's always someone around. Elliot and I hold hands until we get inside, where she kisses me on the cheek and lets go.

"I gotta go make sure Howie doesn't eat the bath soap again. You know how he does that," she tells me and then she's gone.

I contemplate following her since he is my intern too, but I settle on filling out charts at the nurse's station while I hack into my back-up source of energy. God knows I'll need it today. You see, Dr. Cox transferring the burn patients out of the burn ward and down to the ICU because of some problems with the wiring up there. This triples my work load, but I can't do anything about it.

"Morning, Bambi," Carla says cheerfully as she enters behind the counter.

"Morning," I mutter back, not looking up and staying focused on the paperwork in front of me.

"What's up your butt?" She asks.

"Nothing..." Except maybe Elliot's fingers after the morning ass-slap.

She takes the pen out of my hand and sets it on the counter, making me look up. "You look exhausted."

I nod. "That's not even half of what I'm feeling."

"Why didn't you stay home?"

"Carla, I'm not sick, just tired. Plus, I gotta help Dr. Cox out with the burn victims."

She rolls her eyes. "He can handle it. Besides, you look like you're pretty out of it."

"Not out of it, just tired," I explain.

"Whatever, Bambi. Mr. Sparks needs his IV to be changed in room three-oh-four."

Great, more grunt work.

* * *

By lunch time, I'm shaking and not sure why. I put on an extra shirt under my scrubs top, but it isn't making things any better. I'm sitting with my arms crossed and as hunched up as possible, trying to huddle with myself to keep warm. Turk and Carla sit down across from me and I can tell by the look on Carla's face that she's worried about me, but she doesn't say anything...yet.

A few moments later, Elliot sits down next to me, slamming her tray of fries down so hard that they jump up and topple off of the plate. "Okay, so, this burn patient in the ICU, Mr. Ramirez, asked for a new doctor because he didn't like the way I smelled. He said it reminded him of death. I put on _Sweet Pea_ this morning, how can that smell like death?"

"Maybe that's because peas are the food of the devil in Puerto Rico," Carla suggests.

Elliot raises her eyebrows. "Really?"

"No! Good Lord, Elliot..." Carla says as she rolls her eyes, shoving a fry into her mouth.

My God, I feel like I'm sitting in a freezer in Antarctica. How come no one else is cold?

"You okay, dawg? You look like you're trying to strangle yourself," Turk says.

I nod. "I-I'm fine..just a little cold."

Elliot reaches over and grabs my hand, pulling my arms away from the extra source of heat. "Babe, you don't look so good."

I don't say anything, I just lay my head over on her shoulder, hoping that is she like a radiator and will warm me up. She wraps an arm around my frame, rubbing my arm up and down to get some of the blood moving, a technique that we sometimes use. No relief comes and I'm dying to get home so I can cover up. Only five more hours to go, I repeat in my mind, but that makes it worse.

"Let's get you to the on-call room," she says as she stands up, making me do so with her. I don't argue, I just follow her to the room filled with beds. My mouth waters when I see it...it's like my own personal heaven, minus the lesbian cloud and milkshake pool. If only those were here, I might never leave. Elliot leads me over to one of them and I collapse into the it, feeling all of my body give out from the exhaustion I've been fighting all day. She isn't even out of the room when my eyes start to get heavy and as soon as I close them, I'm out like a light.

* * *

"Where, oh where has my little Sylvia gone. Oh, where oh where could she be?"

I groggily roll over on my side, groaning as I listen to whatever the hell is going on in here.

"Oh, there she is! She's taking up space in a room that's supposed to be used for _doctors_, _nawt _getting her beauty rest. Now, I hate to break it to ya, Janice, but you gotta wake up so you can actually do what I pay you to do, otherwise I'll kick your ass out of here so fast it'll make your head and that two dollar hair cut spin." Great, it's Dr. Cox; he's just I want to deal with now.

I sit up and everything I was feeling earlier hits me, only about two times worse this time. The coldness is the worse part though and I almost grab the blanket off the bed to drape around my shoulders. The room is a blur of black, if black can even blur, and I can't quite see where my mentor is standing in here. Maybe he left...I kinda hope he has.

"You planning on getting up there, Newbie?"

Great.

I nod, even though he probably can't see it, and force myself up. But, I don't stay up for very long before I crash into Dr. Cox's chest. He immediately pushes me away, sending me crashing to the floor, landing hard on my ass. I whimper a little, but not enough for him to hear me. I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my head in the middle of them, hoping he'll just leave me alone. I'm there for what feels like ten minutes before the light flickers on and there stands Dr. Cox, looking more pissed off than ever, even more so than the time that I accidentally spit gum on the roof of his car.

"Newbie! Get the hell out of here!

I nod. "Yes sir..." I mumble as I dizzily stand up.

I'm almost out the door when his hand stops me and presses into my chest. "If I ever find you sleeping on company time when you're not on-call, you're dead. And by dead, I don't mean fired; I mean I will quite literally come over to that dump you call your apartment, drag you out of bed, and beat you until it hurts to be in your _My Little Pony_ onesie that I know, better than my own name, you'll be wearing. You know better than to do that. I don't care if you're sick, which it's obvious you are, you cannot do that here. Now, get out of here and go home. You're useless here today."

I nod again and he lets me pass. I can feel his disappointment coming off in giant, angry waves behind me. I shouldn't have let Elliot let me get some rest, I should've sucked it up. Dr. Cox is brand new at this job, I knew he would go crazy if he saw someone, especially his protege, disobeying a rule that he had established last month when he first took this job. Plus, I know he needs my help more than anyone else's to keep the burn victims alive, considering there's only three other doctors working with them today. I can't believe I did this today of all days. I'm such an idiot.

Slowly, I make my way to the nurse's station up front, where I'm greeted by Carla. "Hey, sleepy head."

"Hey..." Just tell her. "Dr. Cox is sending me home," I say as I tap my fingers on the counter. "Can you get someone to cover for me?"

"Sure thing, Bambi. Do you want me to tell Elliot?"

I shake my head. "Nah, she's busy."

"How is she supposed to get home if you're not here?"

"Umm..." I didn't think about that. "I guess I'll come up here and pick her up."

"Forget about that, I'll give her a lift to your apartment."

I nod and smile. "Thanks, Carla."

"No problem. Feel better, Bambi."

Jeez, I sure hope this passes soon.

* * *

After covering myself up with every blanket I could find in the apartment, I'm finally warm. There's still some mild chill in my bones, but at least it's tolerable now. I turn on the television from under the pile, flipping through hundreds of channels before settling on _Full House_. This isn't my ideal way to spend a Thursday afternoon, but, according to Dr. Cox, I'm useless today. I guess that's kind true, considering I was shaking too much to even think about poking someone with a needle. God knows that would've ended with the patient screaming in pain and nearly bleeding to death.

Elliot arrives home not that long after me, which is what strikes me as odd. It's not even five o'clock yet, which is when we usually get off work. In fact, there's still two more hours until then. She comes in, places her stuff down on the counter, and immediately half-runs over to me. "Carla told me you got sent home and gave me a ride over here! Are you okay?" She screeches ridiculously fast, just like Elliot always talks. I turn on my side to where I'm facing her, letting her know that I'm listening and ready to talk, if she'll ever stop rambling about how worried she was.

"I'm fine, Elliot. I just didn't feel that great today."

"I could tell that when you wouldn't stop shaking during lunch. Are you warmer now?"

"Most definitely," I say as I motion to all of the covers on top of me.

Out of impulse from being a doctor, she places her hand on my forehead. "You feel fine. Guess it's just a bug."

It makes sense. It's probably just from stress, which is how I normally get sick anyway. I remember getting these horrible migraines during my second year from over-working myself, the ones that Dr. Cox used to make even worse by talking loudly and flicking lights on and off. It's weird for me to get so cold, but I'll just have to sleep it off tonight and hope it's gone in the morning.

"I hope so. I gotta get back to work tomorrow."

Elliot rolls her eyes. "Babe, you can't rush your recovery just because you want to help Dr. Cox."

"It's not a recovery, Elliot. Plus, that's not the reason why I want to go back to work."

She gives me a small grin. "Then why? Do you want to apologize to him?"

I give a sheepish smile and shrug my shoulders. "Kinda."

"You're such a girl."

I frown, giving her my best puppy dog eyes. "You're mean."

"At least I'm straight," she teases.

"Elliot! What's wrong with you?"

"Relax, babe. I'm totally joking with you. Plus, Turk may have showed me a picture of you in your Halloween costume from three years ago."

"Raggedy Ann?" I ask with a gulp, my voice squeaking in the middle

"Yep," she says. Elliot starts cracking up, snorting and slapping the couch for emphasis.

I am _so _going to kill him.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sorry this chapter is so slow, but the next few ones are going to be that way because I have to introduce the illness as it goes, not all at once. I understand if you think it's boring, but I promise that it'll get more interesting. Well, what did you think of it? Was everyone in character and did you believe in J.D.'s narration? If it wasn't in character or you want to make a suggestion on how to make it better, please let me know. I'm always open for comments about my stories. Thank you so much for reading and please remember that reviews are always appreciated!


	2. Her Growing Concern

**Author's Note:** I do not own the television show _Scrubs_ or any of its characters.

Thank you so much to my reviewers on chapter one! I'm glad you guys are interested, even though it is kind of boring right now. I promise it'll get much better and more exciting later, I just have to let this play out first. After all, most illnesses don't have symptoms that just happen all at once. I know it's not entertaining at this point, but hopefully you all will stick with me. But, the updates are about to get fewer and far-between because school starts back up on January 4 and that will leave very little time to write since I'm taking two new classes on top of the other ones.

This chapter is told from Elliot's point of view.

* * *

_Her Growing Concern_

"Frick!" I scream as I wake up from the worst nightmare imaginable. Ricardo, our pool boy who died in a lumber jacking accident when I was twelve, came back to life and stabbed me with a pitchfork. I'm not sure why he had a pitchfork instead of an ax, but that besides the point. I think he decided to kill me after I saw him getting freaky with Matteo, our grounds keeper, in the woods. All I came down there to do was catch butterflies, but instead I got scarred for life by Matteo's bare butt bouncing up and down in the air like some dog. I never can get that picture of of my head.

It's only one in the morning...what the hell am I supposed to do now?

I roll over to face J.D., who's snoring lightly. He doesn't usually snore, but he tends to when he's sick. His back is to me and it looks like he's cuddling with the pillow, holding it close like I wish he would do to me sometimes. I place my hand on his shoulder to wake him up because I don't think I can fall back asleep after that, but something doesn't feel right. It feels damp and cold, like it's wet or something. If he had an accident in the bed, I'm so going to kill him. Wait...why why his shoulder be wet? Hmm...so many questions and only one way to answer them.

"J.D.," I whisper into his ear, shaking him gently. Instead of having to slap him on the butt like I usually have to, his eyes pop open and he groans, mumbling words I can't identify.

"What?" He mutters groggily, rubbing both hands down the sides of his face.

"Why're you all wet?" It's a problem I'm dying to know the answer to.

He moans. "What're you talking 'bout?"

I push him on his side, surprised that he doesn't fight me, and turn on the lamp next to the bed. His grey shirt is completely drenched and, now that I can see, his face is too. J.D. has sweat dripping off of him, sliding down his face and to the bed. "Babe," I say quietly, trying not to sound as alarmed as I really am. I mean, he was sick earlier today and now look at him. I've never even seen him break a sweat before, not even when he plays basketball with Turk.

"What?" His voice is heavy with sleep.

I jump out of bed and walk over to the dresser, pulling out another t-shirt for him to wear. When I return, he's sitting up and blinking to keep himself awake, but is still bundled underneath the comforter. He's definitely having a hard time staying warm, which just adds to my list of worries. I hand him the shirt and he shakes his head, refusing to put it on.

"J.D., you have to," I tell him.

"Too cold," is his response.

As soon as I pull the blanket off of him, he winces and crosses his arms. I force him to hold still and put it on over his head. When I'm done, he falls back into the pillows, wrapping himself in the pile of covers he brought in here with him earlier. He acted like he was feeling okay when I came home yesterday, but now I can tell that he really isn't feeling well. His cheeks are rosey red and his hair is disheveled to a point that I've never seen before. J.D. just looks sick and there's no way in hell I'm letting him go to work tomorrow, no matter how much he begs and, possibly, cries.

I lay my hand on his forehead, checking his temperature even though he wasn't running a fever a few hours ago. Now, the results are what I expect and his skin is too hot to the touch. I suspected this after sweating through his shirt and still being cold after word. I give him some medicine and wait until I hear him snoring again before I fall back asleep, hoping he'll be better when we wake up.

* * *

"Elliot! Please...I have to go!"

"J.D., you're sick. There's no way in hell you're going to work today."

"But I'm fine!"

"This morning you were drenched in sweat and running a fever. Does that sound fine to you?"

He rolls his eyes. "But I'm not running a fever now, am I?"

"That's not the point," I tell him.

"Then what is the point, Elliot? 'Cause I'm really having a hard time seeing one."

He's so hung up on wanting to help Dr. Cox out with the burn patients that he's jeopardizing his own health in the process. It's true, he does look better and is laying around without being smothered to death with blankets, but I have reasons to believe he isn't okay. He's still super pale, which he really is pale anyway, but the redness in his cheeks has faded for the most part. J.D. isn't acting like he's feeling bad, and he doesn't sound like it since he's arguing with me. Something just doesn't feel right with whatever is going on with him and that scares me.

"You're not going and that's final." God, I sound like my mother. I hate sounding like my mother.

J.D. leans his head back on the couch and sighs. "Why?" He whines once more.

"We're not going to keep playing this game. I'll be back to check on you during lunch. Just try to rest."

He doesn't say anything, so I kiss him on the cheek and I'm out the door.

I hope he'll be okay while I'm gone.

* * *

When I get to work, Turk and Carla are arguing again. He's still mad because she won't let him find out the sex of the baby, even though she is six months pregnant. They kept it a secret with Izzy and that already drove him crazy, so she figures they have to do it again otherwise it's unfair. Personally, I'm excited about finding out the gender just like Turk, but Carla always wins at this sort of stuff. Like when we were fighting about the hair style I should get; I begged her to let me do my own thing and said I could handle that decision on my own, but, somehow, she brainwashed me and made me get what she wanted, not want I wanted to get.

I'm not sure if that makes any sense at all.

"Baby, I need to know!" Turk pleads, giving her his best frowny face and leaning in on the counter.

Carla just shakes her head, not letting him get to her. "No way, Turk. We're keeping it a surprise."

"More like a secret. Are you sure you're not hiding something from me?"

"Why would I hide something from you?"

"Maybe there's an alien inside you...," he tries, raising his eyebrows.

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, we're having an alien baby. What do you want to call it?"

"Well, that depends on what gender it is. See, there's tons of reasons why we should figure it out!"

"It's a boy and a girl," I tell him, brushing my bangs out of my eyes.

"A boy and a girl? It's a he-she?" He squeals, his eyes widening at the thought.

"You are so gullible," Carla says. "Why would I have an alien inside of me, nimrod?"

"Hey, no need for name-calling. I was just making sure I didn't have to call Will Smith."

Carla rolls eyes once again, looking away from her husband and over at me. "Where's J.D.?"

I know she already knows the answer, she's just being a Nosy-Nelly (or is it Nancy)? "At home."

"Still sick?"

"Yeah. He woke up this morning sweating like a pig and running a fever."

"Wait, my Vanilla Bear's sick? Why didn't anyone tell me?" Turk wonders, looking completely hurt by not knowing.

"I told you last night," Carla informs him.

"Was I watching _Judge Dredd_?"

She nods. "You were."

"Then that's why I didn't know. Baby, you can't tell me these things while I'm watching that!"

"Alright, Turk, I'm done with this conversation. We are not finding out the sex of the baby!"

"I didn't even say anything that time!" Turk pouts as he follows Carla down the hall of the ICU.

* * *

You have got to be kidding me.

I'm so going to kill him.

...I feel I say that too much.

Anyway, the sight I'm seeing is what's really pissing me off. J.D.'s here, cleverly trying to disguise himself with his hood up and sunglasses covering his eyes. The only problem with this is that he's smiling while talking to Turk. He has the most recognizable smile out of anyone I've ever met and I could find out if it's him or not just by that. And, trust me, it's definitely him.

I do my angry walk over to him, stomping on the ground and blowing my hair out of my eyes, pulling his hood down and removing the sunglasses. "Hi, honey," I say to him. God, I feel like such a B.A. (bad ass, in case you don't know). I really need to do this more often. Maybe I should become a spy...stay focused, Elliot. This is important.

Maybe I'm spending too much time around J.D.

"E-Elliot, hi. What...What're you doing here?" He asks as he places a hand on his hips.

"Can we take a walk?"

He nods. "Yeah, of course we can. But can we do it after I talk to Dr. Cox?"

"Nope," I say as sweetly as I can as I drag him down the hallway and into the girl's restroom.

"Elliot! You're nails are digging into me again!" He screeches. "And why are we in the girl's bathroom?"

"J.D., what the hell are you doing here?"

I runs his hand through his hair. "I just wanted to talk to Dr. Cox."

"So that's it? You didn't come here to work, just to kiss ass?"

"I'm not kissing his ass. I just feel like I let him down..."

Only J.D. would feel like he let someone down for being sick. He loves to help people, especially Dr. Cox, his mentor since his first day at Sacred Heart, and will do almost anything to do so. It's kind of sweet for him to be so concerned about how Dr. Cox is handling this and his new job, but there's got to be a point where this stops.

I roll my eyes. "J.D., he's a grown man. Plus, if he wanted you here today he would've called."

He shakes his head. "He wouldn't have. He would never ask if he did need help."

"Wow, you've got him all figured out. That's impressive."

"You don't mean that. Look, Elliot, I just wanted to apologize for yesterday."

"For what? Getting sick? None of that is your fault. He's just being a jackass if he sent you home because you took a nap."

"But I took a nap on company time..."

I honestly can't believe he would come to work even though he's sick. I don't care that he looks and acts like he's feeling better, I'm smarter than that. You don't just get all of those symptoms and no have them come back at some point in the day. I know he likes to do everything for Dr. Cox, but I have to draw the line at some point and it might as well be now.

"J.D., just go home, okay? I'll come by to check on you during my lunch break."

"I don't need to be checked up on! I'm fine!"

I shake my head. "Okay, then think of this as a day off. You're always complaining about how tired you are, so then go home and take a nap."

"I slept a lot yesterday and some today, I'm well rested, therefore I don't need to take a nap."

When did he become so stubborn? "Please, J.D., just do it for me."

He nods and shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Okay. For you though, not because I'm sick."

"Okay. I'll see you in a few hours. Love you," I say as I pull him close and kiss him on the cheek like I did this morning. I can't stay mad at him for this. Sure, he came to work when I begged him to stay at home, but I know he's just trying to be the nice guy that he is and help a "friend" out when he really needs it. Still, it does kind of hurt me that he came in while he's sick.

"Love you too," he grumbles.

* * *

After a long day at work, words can't describe how wonderful it feels to kick off my shoes as I enter the apartment. All I want to do is take a nice, relaxing bubble bath and then go to bed. On top of being puked on twice and J.D. giving me a surprise visit today, Mr. Henson said he wanted to lick my skin off and then Mr. Thompson pinched me on the butt. Most male patients are extremely perverted, but they've gotten even worse in a two week period. The old guys are the worst though, which explains why those two behaved the way that they did.

J.D. was fine when I came to check up on him during lunch, just watching some television. No fever, no sweating, no chills, he seemed perfectly normal. Plus, he was cracking jokes the whole time, which makes me think that whatever he had yesterday and this morning is gone and that it was just a twenty-four hour bug. I figure he would be on the couch when I came in the door, but he isn't. In fact, he's nowhere to be found, but a movie is playing in the living room. I try the bedroom next to see if he's just taking a nap, but he's not.

"Hello? J.D.?"

I go farther in our bedroom and then that's when I see him.

He's on his knees in front of the toilet, his head placed on one his arms that's wrapped around the bowl, the other propping him up. I can't see his face and all I know is that something isn't right. So much for him being perfectly normal.

I run in there and kneel down next to him. "J.D.?"

He looks up at me and then I see the tears in his eyes. I lay my hand on his forehead and he pulls away from me, moving his head to where he's facing different direction. It takes all of my force to push him away from the toilet and I can feel his body trembling the whole time. He makes himself into a ball on the bathroom floor, curling his arms around his legs and placing his head in the middle. I go get some medicine from the kitchen, grab him a new shirt because he's sweated through yet another one, and a wash cloth to wipe off his face.

Somehow, I knew this was going to happen. I knew that he would be fine for a few hours or, in this case, almost a whole day and then it would get even worse. He's running a high fever, sweating horribly, shaking, and now he's nauseous. When I look in the toilet, nothing's in there, so this proves that he's just queasy, but it's still enough to really freak me out.

I get him into bed and place the comforter on top of his body, hoping that, with the help of the meds, he can sleep some of this off. He stops me before I leave to let him rest, grabbing my wrist and scaring me half to death. "Don't leave," he mumbles, too out of it to say anything else. I nod and lay down next to him, rubbing his back until I hear his snoring fill the room.

Something tells me that this is going to be one long night.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Still kind of boring, but hopefully it's interesting enough to keep you guys somewhat entertained. The symptoms are subtle, but they're definitely there. I promise that this will get better as it goes and, like I said before, this isn't all about J.D.'s illness, it's about the other characters as well. So, do you think everyone was in character or was I way off with Elliot's narration? Do the characters interact well together and does it sound like stuff they would say on the show? Thanks for reading and please remember that reviewers are always appreciated!


	3. My Need to Know

**Author's Note: **I do not own the television show _Scrubs_ or any of its characters.

Wow, it's been over a month and a half since my last update on this story! I am deeply sorry for that! I was focused on school and I haven't had a lot of free time to post new chapters as often as I have wanted. Plus, I had a nasty case of writer's block and couldn't manage to write anything decent. Hopefully the updates will come more often now, but I can't make any promises. Also, I'm sorry if this chapter sucks. Let me know if it does.

The chapter is told from J.D.'s point of view.

* * *

_My Need to Know_

As soon as I stand up to go into the living room, my vision blurs, leaving me crashing into the nightstand. It takes every ounce of strength in body to hold my position for a few seconds. I feel like the _Incredible Hulk_, but that new-found heroism disappears when I find myself crashing face-first on to the hardwood floor. I mumble and groan, hoping that Elliot heard the commotion and is on her way in here right now. She must hear the a bat because she's in the bedroom in just seconds, rushing to my side and picking me up as best as she can.

"J.D.! Oh my God, are you okay? I knew I shouldn't have left you in here alone! You're too...wobbly. Much like you are any other day, but today it seems worse. I know you're sick and everything, but have you been getting enough protein? Maybe I should switch your diet. Although I'm not sure if you like peas. Which reminds me of this one time-"

I massage my temples during her rant. It feels like there's a freaking lightning storm going on in my head and it's destroying everything inside, from my day dreams to my ability to talk, which makes my voice come out in tiny squeaks, like ones from a baby robin. I had a robin named Jamie, but she flew away after a kite incident. I still haven't forgiven myself.

Elliot ends her rambling with "and then she killed herself", which is usually how her crazy stories end. She covers me up and lays down next to me like she did last night, rubbing small circles on my back for comfort. She didn't go to work today either, which kind of made me mad. I told her that I can take care of myself, but then she rebuttled with the fact that I cried for twenty minutes once because I stubbed my toe. It doesn't make sense to me, but I might just be too out of it to even make words connect in my mind.

"You okay?" She whispers in my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

I nod and gulp at the same time. "Yeah. Just tired."

"That's not a good sign. You've been sleeping all day."

"I know," I mumble, pulling the blankets up farther.

She begins to run her hands down my arms, pushing up my sleeves and just giving me affection. I lean into her touch like I never have before. I mean, I'm a guy who loves to be hugged and taken care of, but being sick makes me crave for it like candy bracelets or cherry Popsicles, which sort of worries me given my particular situation.

"You still awake?" Elliot asks after minutes of silence.

"Yeah."

"What do you think about this?"

"I think it sucks. I've never felt so tired in my life."

She sighs loudly from behind me. "I meant our relationship," she explains.

"Oh...," I say. Dammit, I walked right into this conversation. Don't get me wrong, I would love to have the relationship talk with her some time, but now isn't the time. I close my eyes and just try to hide from it, much like I do whenever me and Turk play _Hide and Seek_. My Brown Bear always finds me, even when I'm hiding in the laundry basket.

"So what do you think?"

I roll over to where I'm facing her. "Elliot, you already know what I think."

She shakes her head back and forth. "No, no I don't. J.D., sometimes it just feels like you're hiding what you really think from me."

No I don't. What the hell is she talking about? Just because I don't openly tell her every relationship-type thing that is going on in my head doesn't mean I'm hiding anything from her. If it were really important, I would suck it up and tell her, facing her judgement and her awkward comments about other people instead of focusing on us.

"See, you're doing it again!"

"What do you mean?"

She rolls her eyes at me like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Every time you tilt your head you like this, you're thinking about something you wish you had the courage to say," Elliot tells me as she mimics my actions, which, by the way, makes her look ridiculous. There's no way I look like _that_ when I day dream.

"What do you want from me, Elliot?"

"I want you to be honest with me and tell me what you're thinking."

I nod. "Okay, fine. I'm scared. Are ya happy now?"

She starts messing with my long sleeved shirt. "Scared of what?"

"Of this. Of what we have."

"But why?"

"Because I don't want either of us to get hurt."

Me and Elliot have gone on this emotional roller coaster ever since we started working at Sacred Heart. And that ride always ended with one of us getting hurt. It starts with an innocent crush, wanting to hold hands and kiss in the supply closet, but we quickly want sexing each other (or becoming sex buddies in one instance) and then everything falls apart from there. I just don't want us to make the same stupid mistakes we've made in the past eight years. I want this to be a real relationship for once. Maybe I should tell Elliot this...

I continue. "I just want us, both of us, to be sure of what we're feeling so it doesn't happen again."

"J.D., we love each other, we've already established that!"

"But can you honestly look me in the eyes and say that this is what you want?"

She nods. "Absolutely. Look, J.D., I've always loved you and I always will. You just have to give this another shot. I know it's only been six months, but you have to trust me. I know we won't do the same things we did in the past. Can you look me in the eyes and tell me the same thing?"

"From the very first day I met you, I knew there was something...something between us. I was just too stupid to realize the great thing we had and blew it on the first try. But that won't happen again as long as we don't say those things anymore. I love you, Elliot." As I finish, my head starts to pound into my skull and the nausea returns, making me curl myself into a ball underneath the blankets. She pulls the covers up on top of me more, kissing me on the cheek and rubbing my back some more. Way to ruin a moment, Head and Body.

"Go to sleep," she murmurs in my ear.

* * *

When I wake up, I hear voices coming from the living room. It's not just Elliot talking to herself like I usually catch her doing, there's other pitches besides hers...Unless she is going nuttier (if that's even a word) than she already is. It wouldn't shock me, to say the least. I mean, this is Elliot Reid we're talking about here. This is the same woman who spent ten minutes last week discussing the difference between "bajingo" and "hoo-hoo". She just keeps surprising me in new ways everyday that I'm around her.

The voices grow louder and then there's some laughter. Actually, it's more like cackling. Those noises just remind me of my sixth grade math teacher and her obsession with ducks. She always used to laugh like that with her pets. But then she snapped and started to eat them for every meal. I'd rather not say anything more.

I slowly get up, careful not to fall over again, with the intention to see who else is in the apartment. The chills return as I turn the doorknob, making me want to bundle back up underneath the mound of warmth on the bed. I look down at my hand and notice that I'm visibly shaking, which is not a good sign. I try to wait until the tremors that wrack my body stop, but that never happens. I sigh and open the door, listening to it creak loudly, sending more shivers down my spine. When I look into the living room, I get a pleasant surprise.

My Chocolate Bear's here! A giant smile forms on my face as I walk over to them, shoving my hands in my pajama pants pockets, figuring none of them want to hug me given my current state. Wow, I'm totally wrong. C-Bear jumps up from the chair and pulls me into his strong arms. Mmm. He smells like a gymnast. Wait...Is that a good thing?

"Vanilla Bear!" He shouts as he pats my back so many times that my tummy starts doing somersaults. "How ya feeling, man?" He's still holding on to me, seeming to refuse the idea of letting me go. I continue to let him hug me because it feels nice to have my best friend here. Plus, he's like a giant, black radiator full of hotness. That came out wrong, but you get the point I'm trying to make. I love seeing my S.C.B. all the time, but being sick really takes a toll on my social time, which explains why I'm grinning from ear to ear right now.

Carla stands up and pries up apart. As soon as Turk releases me, I clutch on to my stomach and contemplate running to the bathroom. My best friend's wife ignores the fact that I feel, and probably look, like I'm going to toss my cookies and wraps her arms around me. I lean my head on her shoulder and a small pleasure moan escapes me.

As soon as she lets go of me, I sit down on the couch next to Elliot, completely faint and lightheaded. My vision squirms around me and I rub my temples, trying to make it all go away. Elliot tugs on my sleeve and gently makes me lay my head down on her lap, a pillow already there to cushion it. I gladly oblige and she places a small, dark blue blanket over me. It's not enough, I want to tell her, but I can tell she knows because she keeps running her hand up and down my arms in hope that the movement will warm me up.

"How're you feeling, Bambi?" Carla asks from her spot at the end of the couch. She keeps playing with my socks, which is making me laugh. I have ticklish feet and I'm not proud of admitting it. I would sound like such a girl if I were to say any of that to Elliot. Hell, I would sound like a girl if I said that to anyone. Ever. In the history of everything.

"Not so great," I say quietly. I hate how small my voice is right now.

"He's been running a fever all day," Elliot chimes in.

"How high?"

Elliot runs her hands through my hair. "It's been holding steady at one o'one point seven for the last few hours."

"That's not good," Carla says.

"I know."

Why do we all have to be doctors? I mean, Carla's not a doctor, but she knows more than most of the ones I know anyway, so she might as well be. I'd rather not discuss my symptoms and all that jazz right now; I just want to get better and go back to work so I can help Dr. Cox. That's practically all I've been thinking about during the times that I haven't been sleeping. I bet with me, Elliot, Turk, and Carla gone that he's swamped. Just thinking about him being there alone without me makes me want to go to the hospital to help him.

"How's the baby?" Elliot asks after a while of silence.

"Gee, I dunno, considering that I don't know if it's a he or a she!" Turk exclaims.

"The gender has nothing to do with how I'm feeling!" Carla says.

"Hell yeah it does. Baby, I have to know!"

"It's been kicking me a lot lately. I'm surprised I can even walk right now."

Then this question pops into my mind:

"Carla, why're here if I'm sick? And why did you hug me?"

She pats my sock-clad foot. "You're not contagious."

"How do you know?"

"Bambi, you've been sick for days. Elliot has no symptoms and neither do any of us."

"I haven't been sick for days! I just started feeling crappy on Tuesday!"

"That was three days ago."

"So?"

"So it's okay for me to be around you. C'mon, you know this."

"You've been haven't been feeling well since Tuesday?" Elliot practically screams.

I nod into the pillow. "I didn't want to tell you."

She doesn't say anything else, she just continues to play with my hair. The room becomes filled with awkward silence, only the television giving us sound. _Three's Company _is on and I settle my attention on that until someone decides to say something to that, watching Janet and Chrissy fight over Jack, as usual. Man, I miss this show.

I fight falling asleep as the conversation starts back up again. Carla and Elliot are talking about baby names, while Turk makes comments on how he has to know the sex before he can suggest a name. I think he has the right to know, considering it is his child, but I won't say that because I don't want to suffer the wrath of an angry Carla.

"What do you think, J.D.?"

Dammit, stop zoning out! Bad Brain!

Uh oh.

I scrunch my eyes close and try to fight off the next few waves of nausea that hit me. Elliot must've felt me tensing up because she pulls the blanket up farther and rubs my shoulder, sensing how uncomfortable I am. All of the aches come back at once and my stomach feels like it's going to explode, but I continue to be super still, hoping that it will leave on its own. That absolution never happens, which eventually makes Elliot get up and go do...something. I don't really even know at this point.

She comes back and forces me to sit up, which ends with me collapsing on to Carla. "Sorry," I mumble. I dunno if I laid down too hard or not. I'm guessing I didn't because she doesn't say anything. Elliot presses a few pills into my hand, signaling for me to take them. I do, but it immediately makes me start to dry heave, bending over and coughing as hard as I can at the floor. Nothing ever comes up, but there's a lump in my throat that won't go away, making tears form in my eyes. How did I grow up to be such a wimp?

And then everything goes black.

* * *

"J.D.! J.D., please wake up!"

My eyes flutter open and I groan, blinking repeatedly to wake myself up more. Elliot is hovering over me, her own eyes wide, the look of shock present in them. What the hell happened? The last thing I remember is talking to Carla and Turk about...something and now this. Dammit, what is going on with me? Why can't I remember?

"What happened?" I ask.

"You blacked out."

"Blacked out?"

Elliot nods. "You're temp spiked after your dry heaving episode and everyone said that's why."

"Everyone?"

"Just me, Carla, and Turk. But I'm taking you to the hospital first thing tomorrow morning."

"What? Elliot, no! I'm better, I promise!" Wow, I must be really idiotic to say something like that. My brain feels like mush, every bone in my body is aching, I can't keep my eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time, and my bladder is going to explode soon. I want to jump up and go, but that would cause quite a few more problems that involve things I'd rather not discuss until I'm eighty or so when accidents are okay. She would literally kill me if I were to do anything like that in this bed.

Elliot shakes her head. "Nope. I'm not waiting for you to get better anymore. We have see what this actually is because it's not something innocent like a cold or a stomach bug." Okay, so this is probably true. It's not a cold because my nose isn't running or driving me insane and it's not a stomach bug because I haven't really thrown up yet.

"Please don't make me go!"

"J.D., I'm not have this argument with you anymore. You're going and that's final."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm fairly certain that this was the most boring chapter of them all. It may only be three chapters long, but, golly gee, this one seems stupid after I read over it a few times. I added this one in there because it helps shape the story overall a bit more. Thanks for reading and remember that reviews are always appreciated!


	4. His Overwhelming Annoyance

**Author's Note:** I do not own the television show _Scrubs_ or any of its characters.

_Italics = _Dreams or flashbacks

This chapter is told from Dr. Cox's point of view.

* * *

_His Overwhelming Annoyance_

_"You're dead," I point out as I take another swig of my beer. It doesn't even compare to scotch, the drink that makes Jordan's morning breath not as threatening and makes Newbie's shrill voice less annoying, but what the hell. It's not like I have any free time to just enjoy an evening like this with all the crap that goes on in the hospital. _

_"You're drunk," Ben replies as he jumps on top of the counter at the bar. He wiggles around for a moment to see if it's stable enough to hold him up and starts doing the Macarena when he's sure it's okay. "And you're incredibly-" he burps. "Woah, maybe I shouldn't have had that chili today. I think it did some damage to my intestines."_

_I shrug. "Probably. But I think the word you're looking for is 'handsome'."_

_He shakes his head. "Nah. That's not it. I was going to say that you're incredibly stupid."_

_"You know, Benjamin, words can be hurtful," I say as I pretend to care. I already know what he's talking about, so why in the hell should I have to listen to it? It's not like anything the dead body of my best friend has a single coherent thought left in his mind. Actually, that's not a valid argument since he never had those thoughts when he was alive and wasn't buried six feet underground in a coffin that smells like feet and baby powder mixed together. Who knows what it smells like now that it's been five years._

_Ben gives me a serious look. "First off, don't _e-he-he-ever _call me Benjamin." He stops to snicker at me as I cross my arms and flick my nose. "Secondly, don't take your anger at the world out on the kid. He didn't do anything to you, so I'm not quite sure why you're being such an asshole. You should be yelling at whoever gave you that awful haircut. Seriously, Perry, did Jack try to cut your hair again? Because, as your friend, I'm telling you that that look doesn't work for you. Sorry, Per, but it's true. Jordan feels the same way."_

_"The kid was sleeping while he was supposed to be helping me," I rebuttal, my cheeks heating in frustration._

_He rolls his eyes. "He was sick. Any idiot could've seen that." Okay, so that's another thing that's true. I knew Newbie wasn't feeling well the day before that incident even happened since he didn't come in the hospital singing "Me and Bobby McGee" like he always does. And when he came in the next day, he looked like he hadn't slept at all._

_"It doesn't matter. He shouldn't have even came into work that day. I would've given him the day off if he would've asked."_

_Ben just shakes his head, looking defeated. "No you wouldn't have. Perry, you have to let someone other than him help you, otherwise you're going to be mad every time he can't drop everything to help you." Dammit it all to hell, why is Ben saying this shit to me today? I can't handle it. Not today of all days. Why is he even here? I scrub my hands over my face and sigh, leaning on to the counter top to support all of my muscular self. I gotta find away to get out of this place. And fast._

_"Ben, please stop," I beg._

_He steps down from the counter and plops on to a bar stool. "Why?"_

_"Why're you doing this?"_

_"Because I need to know why you're so angry lately. I mean, for God's sake, you nearly punched out an old lady while she was ordering a coffee yesterday, almost killed the kid when he was sleeping, and physically choked 'Pee Pants', whoever the hell that is, when he asked what time it was. There has to be a reason why this is happening."_

_Oh my God, I'm going to kill him. I just...I can't do this right now. Why did he have to pick this day to annoy the crap out of me? To make me actually think about what I've been doing? To point out all of the mistakes I've been making. I shouldn't have tried to punch a senior citizen, I shouldn't have almost killed Newbie because he was sick, but, hell, Nervous Guy so deserved what he got. So what? Why does Ben feel he has to do this now? He should know better than anyone why I'm so angry lately. _

_"You alive in there, Per?"_

_I raise my head up to look into his eyes. "Because you weren't supposed to die."_

_

* * *

_

I wake up to the bartender banging two pots together above me. I raise my head and feel the migraine I fell asleep with come back, feeling the vibrations of the pulse in my skull press against my fingertips. Shit. I don't even remember coming here. This is bad. Jordan's going to kill me. Wait, why the hell do I care about that?

"You go now," the bartender says in an unrecognizable accent.

I start to pull my wallet out of my scrubs pants pocket when he says, "You not order anything. No pay." I've never once in my forty-nine years encountered a bartender that didn't scam me for my money. They always do. It's like the bartender code or something like that. But this guy, this guy here, knows how to be a good man and cut me some slack. Maybe I just didn't really order anything. Hell if I know, to be honest. Like I said before, I don't even remember stepping foot into this place. Why did I even come here anyway?

As I'm in the middle of rubbing my forehead in frustration, my pager goes off. Out of blurry vision, I make out that it says that there's an important person waiting for me in the clinic. What kind of jackass thinks they're important enough for me to drop whatever the hell it is that I'm doing just to help them out with some STD-related problem of theirs?

But, for whatever reason, I'm at Sacred Heart in just under thirty minutes. Wow, the cab system is really working well tonight. And it didn't even smell as bad in there as it usually does. Maybe I should've tipped the guy for that new air freshener he put in the car just to make the passengers not feel as nauseous anymore. It was a nice touch.

"What's the big emergency?" I say as soon as I see Carla at the nurse's station.

"There's someone waiting in the clinic for you."

"Way to be specific there, Carla. Care to tell me who it is?"

She shrugs. "I dunno, I haven't checked."

I give a fake, cheery smile. "You're on top of it tonight, aren't ya?"

"Oh shut up and just go see who it is," she says as she slaps my arm.

The walk down to the clinic is at least a mile, I swear. It's on the complete opposite side of the building, which means that whoever the hell this is better be related to the hospital somehow or I just wasted a precious three minutes and thirty-seven seconds that I will never get back. Three minutes and thirty-seven seconds that could have been the best three minutes and thirty-seven seconds of my life. I whistle to block out the inevitable boredom that settles in on this not-so-leisurely stroll. But then I'm appalled by who I see in the clinic room.

Newbie.

He's curled up in the fetal position on his side on the examining table, shielding his eyes from the bright lights above. He has his hood up, probably trying to look "gangsta" like his "dawg" Gandhi and seems to be pretty out of it. Newbie's not wearing any shoes, which explains the smell of the room, and apparently isn't too concerned about how this place has germs crawling throughout it. No wonder why he's sick, the kid works in here at least four times a week, but that's because it's hospital protocol to waste time in the clinic.

I roll my eyes at the pathetic sight of him and literally stomp my feet on the floor as I enter the area. He jumps in fright, falling off the table and groaning when he lands. Newbie doesn't even bother to get up, he just lays there, letting more and more diseases use him as their new playground. I walk over to the other side and say, "Get up, Newbie. The floor is no place for a beautiful princess such as yourself." I know the girl jokes are lame since I use them on him all the time, but they still never fail to crack me up.

He obliges, pulling himself up and then collapsing back on the table, going right back to his previous position. So this is who I spent those three minutes and thirty-seven seconds on? Wow, Perry, you have got to learn not be so generous with your time. I contemplate storming out of here and beating the crap out of Carla, but then she would yell something in Spanish and then a giant bull would, more than likely, come to kick my ass. I don't know why there would be a bull in a hospital, but, hell, anything's possible.

"What's with the spec, Tess?" Newbie never wears glasses. I didn't even know he needed them.

He shrugs.

"Excellent response there, Susie. Now, Linda, what the hell are you here for? You do realize that you are, indeed, wasting my time because you have a case of the sniffles, right? It's seven o'clock on a Sunday evening and you're pulling me away from my private life. I'm supposed to be at the bar right now, but look at where I am."

Newbie doesn't say anything, he just continues to stare blankly into my eyes. That's when I notice the redness of his cheeks and the sickening paleness of his skin, even more so than usual. I place my hand on his forehead and, as soon as I do, he squirms, nearly falling off the table again. Shit. His forehead feels like it's on fire.

But I'm never one to worry. "Sit up there, Newbie." He does, swinging his legs over the side and putting his head in his hands. All of a sudden, his face turns a shade of pale green and his eyes grow wide. I know that look. I roll the chair across the ground, retrieve the trash can, and then Newbie proceeds in spewing out his insides for several minutes. During this time, I write down his symptoms on his chart, noticing that an intern had neglected to do his actual job. Somebody's going to get fired.

"That is disgusting," I say to myself rather than him. After the puking stops, he falls back on to his side and I let him, noticing the look of exhaustion in his eyes. "Where's your beard at, kid?" He moves his hand to touch his face. "No, no, kid, I mean, where's Barbie?" Damn, Newbie. How is he a doctor with as little common sense as he has.

"With Mr. Foster," he informs me with a scratchy, barely audible voice.

I go find Barbie, who is with Mr. Foster just like Newbie said, and pull her into the clinic room. Her high heels clack the whole damn walk down there and it takes every fiber of my being not to shove those shoes down her throat. Maybe Dream Ben was right; I am getting a bit too angry too easily. But that can't stop just yet.

"What the hell, Dr. Cox? I was in the middle of something!" She shrieks.

"You had your hand up some old guy's ass."

Her eyes bug out of her head. "That's still something. And don't use that word!"

"Old?"

"No."

"Guy's?"

"No."

"Ass?"

"No. I mean, yes! You're disgusting."

"That's what I was going for. Anyway, I need you to tell me how long Newbie's been sick and keep it short."

She shrugs. "Well, he hasn't been felling well since Wednesday. He said he was kind of lightheaded and groggy. Then on Thursday he woke up and didn't even get turned on by my morning sex dance, which, by the way, would knock your socks off if you saw it. Thursday was also the day you sent him home, so you know that he was sick that day. Um...let's see...Friday morning he woke up sweating like a pig and running a high fever, was fine for a while, and then when I came home he was on his knees in front of the toilet. Yesterday, he was running a fever of one o'one the whole day. And, well, today he almost passed out during the walk up here and ran out of breath really easily and then-"

"Oh my God, Barbie. I said short." She just blew a fuse. I'm sure I'm going to need emergency brain surgery to remove her high-pitched, squealing voice from my head. How the hell does Newbie even put up with that while they're having sex and she's begging him to use less dirty words and focus more on "making love", whatever the hell that is.

The whole time Barbie is ranting, Newbie is fighting the urge to fall asleep. I can see it in his half-open eyes that keep fluttering, which makes me want to slap him across the face and tell him to either stay awake or just go to sleep already. There is no use in forcing yourself to stay awake, especially when your girlfriend is talking the night away.

"Four days," she finally says.

"See, now was that so hard?"

Barbie begins to rub Newbie's back, which is when he starts to let the exhaustion take over. His eyes close for the last time and, before I know it, he's out like a light. I can already tell what he has since I'm just amazing like that, but I have to get a blood test first. I roll up his jacket sleeve and stick him with a needle. It's as simple as that. Now I just have to wait.

* * *

I move Newbie into an empty patient's room to sleep while waiting for the test results since the clinic room was needed by someone else. Barbie's been with him this whole time since her shift is over, cuddled with him under the covers. They are both sound asleep when I shoot a dart from my son's _Nerf_ gun inside. It lands on her head and she completely freaks out, waking him up in the process. Barbie screams bloody murder and tries to wipe the "bug" off of her. I laugh harder than I've ever laughed before and enter the area.

"Bravo, Barbie. Wonderful commitment," I say as I clap my hands and whistle.

"That was so not funny!" She shrieks, tears coming to her eyes.

I shake my head. "No, it was hilarious."

"You're such a jerk."

To get off subject so she wouldn't come after me with those bear hands, I throw Newbie's file in her direction. She ends up catching it, opening it up as fast as she can. Her eyes get bigger than they already are and she just shakes her head back and forth like "how can that possibly be true?" sort of thing.

"Influenza A? That doesn't even fit his symptoms."

I nod. "The test confirmed it and so did yours truly."

"Are you sure it's not a false positive?"

"Checked twice. Apparently Sleeping Beauty just has the flu. And, according to the law, I can't have him come into work until his fever has been down for at least twenty-four hours."

She shrugs. "Okay, I guess." Barbie wakes Newbie up and then they're on their way home.

* * *

Jordan's crying into a tissue when I walk in the door to our apartment. The kids have gone to bed a long time ago, leaving her the quiet opportunity to sneak in a few tears before I got home. Too bad she keeps forgetting that my schedule has changed a lot since I became the Chief of Medicine. I sit down next to her on the couch, grabbing her hand in the process. I know what this is about and I feel the same way as her, but I can't bring myself to face it like she can. When did she get so in touch with her feelings?

"You okay?" I whisper into her ear.

She shakes her head. "I miss Ben."

I nod. "I do too."

Her soft sobs are muffled as she lets a few tears fall on to my shirt, trembling slightly against my chest. I wrap my arms around her, letting her know I'm here for her without saying anything. She only cries once a year and it's always the same damn day. It's always the same damn day where I can bring myself to a bar and not drink. It's always the same damn day when I realize that Ben's been gone for however long. It's always the same damn that when I notice that I still haven't forgiven myself for letting him leave my medical care.

It's always the same damn day when I realize that he could still be alive if it weren't for me.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I know Dr. Cox isn't completely in character this chapter, but I tried to convey how depressed he is about Ben's death even though it's been five years. I think he believes that he is, in some way, responsible for the death of his best friend even though it is never addressed in the show again. Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please let me know if there's anything I can do to fix this story at all in general. Thank you so much for reading and please remember that reviews are always appreciated!


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